Haunted House
by takixe190
Summary: Young Alfred believes a ghost is in Arthur's house.  rating MAY change


"Alfred!"

Alfred's head shot up from his toys as he heard his name echo through the house.

"Alfred!" He stood. "Come to the front door now!"

Alfred tossed his Spiderman action figure onto his bed and took the steps two at a time. He stopped at the bottom, frowning at his elder brother.

"Arthur," he whined, noting the work clothes. "It's Saturday!"

Arthur smiled, gently ruffling Alfred's hair. "I know it is, Alfred, but we need the money."

Alfred pouted to the floor. "How long? Not long, right?"

"Until ten. So no, not long."

Alfred brought his wide eyed gaze up from the floor. "Ten? But, Arthur! It's dark! I don't wanna stay here alone in the dark!"

'You'll be okay, lad." Arthur lifted his raincoat off the coat hook. "I heard that it was supposed to storm tonight. The first clap of thunder you hear, you let the dog in."

Alfred glanced at the back door. "Yes sir."

Arthur knelt down to Alfred's level. "It isn't a long time, Alfred."

"Yeah it is!" Alfred argued. "Five hours is a VERY long time!"

Arthur chuckled. "Trust me, Alfred, it will pass quickly. I have to go now. I love you."

Alfred sighed, then threw his arms around Arthur. "Love you too."

"There we go." Arthur grinned, straightening up. "I'll be back soon."

"I'll be waiting." Alfred replied glumly, then watched from the window until Arthur's car was out of sight.

OoOOoo ooOOoo ooOOoo

Alfred wanted so badly to go ahead and let his dog inside for company, but he knew he couldn't. Their dog loved the outdoors, but he was always locked inside, since Alfred had school and Arthur had work.

Arthur finally made it a rule that- as long as one person was home and it wasn't storming- the dog stayed outside.

Too bad it wasn't storming yet.

Alfred peeked outside. He hadn't gone back upstairs yet. Instead, he decided to sit in the kitchen and drink hot chocolate, the best comfort drink in the world. The mug was warm, but the shivers kept coming.

He hated being alone. Especially at night. It scared him. He was only a nine year old boy, after all.

But Arthur was right. They did need the money.

Their parents had abandoned them, a little more than 3 months after Arthur came home from college.

He had gone to study in the country he was born in, England, and that cost their parents a lot of money.

Their parents had finally decided they didn't want to spend that much money on a kid ever again.

One day, when Alfred woke up, he went downstairs. He found Arthur sitting at the kitchen table, his head in his hands, a note crumpled on the table in front of him.

Their 'loving' parents had left, and taken all their money with them.

So, Arthur ran out and found a job, and now worked almost every single day.

And it still barely kept them going.

Alfred took a sip from his mug, closing his eyes tightly. It wasn't fair. Why couldn't he had been born a dog?

Dogs weren't afraid of the dark, or storms, or loosing all their money, or anything!

A wonderful idea popped into Alfred's head then.

Who was to say he couldn't be a dog?

Abandoning the empty mug, he dropped off the chair onto the floor, getting on his hands and knees.

He stuck his tongue out and tried imitating a panting dog as he padded over to his dog's inside water owl. He pretending to lap some up, then giggled.

Outside, he heard the dog bark, and he answered with one of his own.

Then a stair creaked.

It wasn't unusual for the stairs to creak when someone was walking up them, so Alfred shoved himself off the floor.

Since he wasn't panting or giggling, he could hear the footsteps, heading up the stairs.

Arthur had been right. Those five hours felt like thirty minutes!

Alfred grinned from ear to ear and looked at the clock.

5:35.

Those five hours had felt like thirty minutes because it HAD been only thirty minutes.

The floorboards directly over Alfred's head were creaking now.

Alfred swallowed. Maybe Arthur had come home early.

5:37.

No. Arthur would never come home THIS early.

The creaking stopped.

Alfred took a deep breath. Time to see what that was all about.

Summoning all his courage, he ran out of the kitchen, into the hall, and stopped by the front door, at the bottom of the stairs. He peered up into the darkness.

Nothing.

A light upstairs sudden;y turned on, and Alfred's breathing sped up.

He raced back into the kitchen and grabbed the phone.

He dialed Arthur's office number as fast as his small, shaking fingers could manage and held his breath as he waited.

Arthur answered after the third ring.

"Alfred? Are you okay?"

"Arthur!" Alfred gasped. "Please come home!"

"Alfred, you know I can't leave work early!" Arthur sighed, but his voice was thick with worry. "What's the matter?"

"Someone is here, Arthur! They're upstairs. I think it's a ghost!"

"Alfred take a deep breath and listen to me." A pause. "Alfred?"

"Yes?"

"There is no such thing as a ghost."

"Then why are the floorboards creaking?" Alfred demanded.

"Wind. We have an old house Alfred, and you know it creaks when it's windy outside."

"The lights are flickering."

"It's about to storm."

"Arthur!"

"Alfred! I can not leave work early! Bring Scooter in now, if you think that will help you calm down."

Arthur ran to open the back door. "It will. Thank you."

"I'll call back in about an hour to check on you, Alfred."

"Okay. I love you."

"I love you too. Remember to breath."

Alfred laugh. "I will. Bye" He hung up and called for the dog to come inside. It didn't move from where it was staring up at the hose.

Alfred sighed and crossed the yard, reaching for Scooter's collar.

"Come on, Scooter."

The dog ignored him.

Alfred looked up at the house as well and let out a cry.

But, before he could do anything else, the figure in the window disappeared.


End file.
